


This Is Not A Diary

by comebackjessica



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bridget Jones's Diary References, But Mostly Tommy, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, M/M, Tommy Is A Drama Queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2020-09-28 13:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20426591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comebackjessica/pseuds/comebackjessica
Summary: Lamentations and confessions of one Thomas Shelby; full of self-pity and tea on other people.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> *ignoring canon intensifies*  
Inspired by tumblr shitposting, ultragustd's/Tiia's excellent chat fanfics and, mostly, my own fuckups.

_ ©Mad Books Publishing House, Ltd., 2019 _

###  DAY ONE

**9:15 AM**

Okay, this whole thing is definitely beneath me. If anyone asks, I’ll spend my probation period in my room, wishing I never existed. That’s it. Take that, doctor Gold. You fucking nutjob. I’m not writing in any fucking diary for you to read to bed!  ** _FUck!_ **

**10:12 AM**

Oh, and one more thing – this isn’t a diary. This is a journal because SOMEONE (Ada, if you’re reading this,  **stop immediately** ) apparently cannot help themselves around stationary sales.

**10:15 AM**

Although I do have to say, this is a very nice notebook and I do appreciate her remembering I like red. Not that it’s my favourite colour but it might be. So. You’re nice, Ada. Thanks.

**11:03 AM**

Fuck you, though, Ada. You know what? No! I really  **WOULD** have preferred the bloody prison instead of these POINTLESS, ANNOYING THERAPY SESSIONS WITH A FUCKING CLOWN OF A PSYCHIATRIST!

**11:10 AM**

Note to self: must figure out how to write in this thing more quietly since Polly has just thrown her newspaper at me.

**11:11 AM**

Not that I am necessarily GOING TO write anything here. Because  **fuck** this diary!

**11:12 AM**

Not a diary. It’s a journal. It said so on the label.

**11:14 AM**

On the other hand, I got back at her by spilling my tea on her fucking cat. Pretty sure all of Polly’s cats hate me for no apparent reason anyway so now at least this one has a valid one. You’re welcome, Pol.

**11:15 AM**

Coincidentally, I’ve always considered myself a cat person rather than a dog person but apparently, all cats on this bloody planet hate my fucking guts.

**11:16 AM**

Oh, and one more thing. To prove I’m not clinically insane, and I most certainly DO NOT have anger management problems, let me transcribe that last fucking session with doctor Gold. Let’s begin with the fact that he was fucking LATE and after taking off his coat, immediately begun blabbering about his fucking SON:

“Next month he’s going up against this giant of a boy, let me show you a picture, Tommy…” Before we even sat down, he nearly threw his cellphone at me to show me some half-naked pictures of sweaty muscular guys. Nice strategy, doctor. “This one is my Bonnie.” He pointed towards the shortest and sweatiest.

“How nice,” I said, in a dignified fashion, in hopes we might finally begin and get it over with.

I don’t know who would’ve been mad enough to grant that man a diploma of any kind but it seems like Cambridge had so here we fucking are.

“So tell me, Tommy,” he began again, this time focusing on me at last. “How are we today?”

“We?” I asked, ready to give the bastard a run for his money. The most expensive crook my bloody family could’ve found, I tell you. And one with the breathiest, weirdest fucking voice. Ughhh! This voice gives me the creeps. It’s as if he’s speaking to you but also to all the ghosts that we might also share the room with. That’s exactly how it feels and I hate it.

“How’s the family?” He tried again, giving me that sneaky smile of his. It never reaches his eyes. Or maybe it’s just that they’re so small and… bird-like. He reminds me of these birds of prey that me and Arthur used to watch at the zoo when we were kids.

“Good,” I said and nodded for emphasis. The thing is, I figured the less I say to him, the better. He can’t prove me insane if I don’t give him any material.

Not that I am insane. 

Scratch that.

Jesus Christ, the more I say it, the worse it all sounds. The last session he told me I seem “jumpy”. Not my fucking fault, doctor Gold. You would’ve been too if the court made you move back with your bloody maternal aunt who moonlights as an occultist.

Oh, that’s right! Yes. She’s the centre of the whole problem, I tell you. Not only do I have to listen to people coming and going, asking for tarot reading and aura cleansing all day, no. POLLY is the one who owns the café where it all happened. And with the clients she attracts… honestly, she has to be at least partially responsible for what I did. Not only was I doing her a favour that day, but I also agreed to fucking WAIT ON TABLES because Lizzie never showed up for work. Fucking Lizzie. She’s a culprit, too, as far as I’m concerned.

Right.

So where was I?

“Jesus Christ, Tommy, slow down with the idle chatter, will ya?” Doctor Gold chuckled and took off his glasses to clean them. Aside from this man’s complete bloody weirdness, I liked the way he dressed. And I liked those glasses. They’re vintage Prada, impossible to find anywhere else but through private collectors. I can appreciate that about a person.

“So… What is it you want me to say?” At this point, I was growing impatient but deep down inside I knew this was exactly what he was going for. So I took a deep breath and did my best to stay calm.

“Let’s try to go back to the night of the incident, shall we?” He asked slyly.

“No.”

Honestly, I don’t see the point of talking about that. Why bother? That night is the only reason I’m even in this whole bloody mess. Everybody knows what happened, why bother going through that over and over again? I would just like to clarify, in case this journal might actually be used as evidence against me: it’s not the waiting tables that bothers me, all right? Because it’s not. That café was mum’s first; the only thing in her life besides us that father hadn’t managed to ruin with his utter fuckwittage. I’ve spent most of my life waiting on tables and I’ve no problem with that, none whatsoever. Everything I own now I’ve earned through sweat, tears and hard work. That’s not the point. The point is… fucking people. Especially the people that the café and Polly attract lately. Fucking hipster weirdoes that think they own me if I wear an apron. This is what I hate. The sheer audacity. The sneers. The looks. Don’t they realize who I am?! At this point, I could bloody buy their skins and the shirts they walked in!

So anyway. 

“So tell me about your daily grind,” doctor Gold asked with that fake “I get you” smirk. 

“You… know I’m on sick leave from work, right? One which you prescribed?” At this point, I was getting pretty annoyed. It’s one thing to ban me from working, but must he also take a piss about it?

“I meant your days, Tommy. It’s been four weeks, I’m sure there are some events you’d like to share with me?”

_ Ah. _

Well, who was I to know what he meant? The guy is clearly bloody mad. And truth be told… All right, there _were _events. Thanks to my bloody sister (again!) there was this unfortunate Tinder incident that, frankly, I don’t care to mention but will anyway, for my own protection: my sister decided to set up a Tinder account and matched with men pretending to be me. Apparently for “your own bloody good, Tommy, you depraved hermit.”

And so she set me up on a date with this…  _ Tinder bloke. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their Tinder descriptions were found on tumblr but their original authors are lost since the Great Purge of Yahoo. Please message me if you know them.

### DAY TWO

**05:46 AM**

It’s really not like I even _ want to _meet this guy ever again. 

**05:47 AM**

Certainly not after he dared to totally make fun of my taste in music.

**05:49 AM**

And what if I _ like _Lana Del Rey unironically? She speaks to me, all right? Fuck him! Fucking hipster, with his Pink Floyds and his… what was that? Nevermind. Some other depressing band from the 70s that at this point probably has one surviving member.

**05:50 AM**

I am fairly certain this can all be filed under “Ada’s bloody fault”. Why in hell would she do that to me???

**05:51 AM**

For clarity, it went something like this (and I do firmly believe that this whole situation could’ve been avoided had I not taken such brilliant selfies). She came for a visit, in her usual style of pandemonium in a very expensive trench coat, and immediately started blabbering as soon as she entered the sitting room:

“Tommy!” She threw herself on the sofa right next to me. For some reason I noticed that all three cats immediately started flocking to her. Bastards. “We’re going to the movies,” she announced as if she had just learned about people inventing the bloody moving pictures.

“Certainly not, Ada,” I said, clearly not in the mood for any outings.

“Shut up, brush your hair or whatever the fuck you do with this updo and let’s go!” She patted me on the thigh and stood up, undoubtedly to feed those beasts some snacks in the kitchen.

“I’m not going anywhere!”

So in the end she made me go out… and to my utter dismay, we stopped at some weird library-turned-into-a-café place. She made me sit down and went to order our coffee, and so this is when I heard some bloke behind me yelling my name. I turned around and suddenly was face to face with some bloody lumberjack who was beaming at me like a maniac.

“Tommy. Hello,” he said with the thickest, weirdest cockney accent I’ve ever heard in my life.

“Hello?” At this point I was desperately trying to remember if we’ve met before and so I just instinctively outstretched my hand towards the guy. He shook it; had a nice, firm grip, too.

“Nice to meet ya,” he said and sat down right where I thought Ada was about to sit. At this point, I desperately tried to catch her attention with sheer willpower, to no avail. What if this guy was some sort of a madman with a knife???

“This is a nice place,” he said cheerfully; precisely the thing a madman would say to lull me into a false sense of security.

“It is,” I said and cleared my throat. “What are you doing here?”

He looked at me dumbfounded but then grinned again and said:

“You invited me.”

Having done no such thing, my focus went straight back to Ada whom I saw now approaching the table with two cups of what I had hoped was coffee.

“There we are,” she said in her best customer service voice. “You two enjoy,” she said, then had the audacity to bloody _ wink at me _ and left the place before I could even ask her what the fuck’s going on.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” the bloke said and then proceeded to put obscene amounts of sugar in his tea. “Nice of ya to remember I don’t drink coffee, though.”

“You’re welcome,” I said dryly and took a rather nervous sip of my scorching hot coffee, thoroughly burning my upper lip. I patted it with a napkin, trying to put two and two together and stall a little. He looked at me funny and smiled rather smuggly:

“I have a feeling you’re not happy to see me at all, Tommy.”

“Don’t be daft,” I lied smoothly and took out my phone to try to match the face to the… well, face, since I never asked what his name was. Fuck. It was too late to do that now, was it? I thought so and so I just scrolled through my camera roll and tried to see if I went to some party last weekend and blacked out in those… broad, lumberjack arms clad in obscene amounts of flannel.

“I also have a feeling that this woman there wasn’t a waitress,” he said resolutely and pointed towards my sister who was now back in her favourite Burberry coat and was yelling at some taxi driver on the other side of the street.

“Listen…” I didn’t find anything on my phone and was just about to come clean but then, in a hidden folder somewhere in the upper right corner of my screen, I spotted it… The fucking Tinder app. “I really have to use the bathroom.” 

I got out of there as fast as I could and locked myself in the empty stall. I checked out my profile and immediately knew who stood behind the whole thing. And… _ honestly! _ THIS IS WHAT SHE CHOSE FOR MY PROFILE INTRODUCTION??? “Once in the fifth grade this bloke called me a homo and I thought he meant _ homeless _ and I was so confused that I said: _ Jeremiah, you’ve been to my house. _”

WHAT THE FUCK, ADA?!?!

**06:23 AM**

And so… alright. Then I went through my conversation with Alfie (the only match that she spoke with for longer than two days, apparently) and it turns out… she set me up on this date and then just decided to leave me here with this bloke and hope for the best??? WITCH!

**06:25 AM**

Oh, and also the man’s pretty fucking insane. His profile pictures are literally him and his dog pulling faces! Oh, and the description??? “Me rollerblading into my therapist’s office with sunglasses on and holding a piña colada: _ Maurice, you ain’t gonna believe this shit! _”

Oh yeah. Practically admits he’s under constant psychiatric supervision!

And then look at this shit, I honestly cannot believe my own and soon to be tragically deceased sister:

**Alfie:** So I had this dream that sunflowers took over and we all had to run for help to the trees because they’re taller but they didn’t want to help us since we treat this planet like shit.

**Ada (as me): **How high are you?

**Alfie:** 5’7”

**Ada:** (some stupid bloody crying emojis)

WHO STARTS CONVERSATIONS LIKE THIS?!?!

WHO, I ASK?!

Okay and so then they proceeded to throw utter nonsense at each other, including my sister spilling SOME DELICATE FUCKING INFORMATION to a complete stranger with a beard!!!

**06:29 AM**

Okay, the beard isn’t the problem. It’s… nice. Kind of unkempt, true, but trimmed just enough to not be bum-like.

**06:30 AM**

So after I read this entire weeks-long conversation, I finally realized why Ada visited so often and why was I constantly losing sight of my bloody cellphone. And here I was thinking that she wanted to keep me company… The wench!

I read it all and got out of the bathroom. At this point I was thoroughly convinced that Alfie wasn’t going to be there. He would probably think I stood him up and maybe got out of the bathroom window, and so he would’ve left, but no. He was sitting there, just casually in his reading glasses, and reading yesterday’s newspaper.

“It’s from yesterday,” was the first thing I said just after I managed to sit down.

“Aye, it is, isn’t it? I like a bit of a refresher sometimes, you see,” he said and then folded it sloppily. “Took you awhile. Everything alright, Tommy?” 

“I’m fine,” I said and took a sip of my now disgustingly cold coffee.

“If you say so,” he said and took his glasses off. “D’you want to leave?”

“Yes, please,” I said before I managed to think things through. “If you don’t mind.”

“Nah, not at all. Somethin’ stressing you, innit?” 

“You have no idea…” I got up fully prepared to part ways with him but then as we left the cafe, instead of shaking my hand and saying goodbye _ like people do _, he put his arm around me and whistled for a taxi! WHO DOES THAT?!

**07:00 AM**

He took me to a bloody underground concert.

**07:01 AM**

I think he got me drunk.

**07:02 AM**

And so it’s not like I’m sitting here wondering since I _ never _want to see that bloody weirdo again, but there is just one thing I really need to know. Gonna call Ada.

**07:15 AM**

That was a mistake.

**07:16 AM**

Not my fault she’s just had a night shift, Jesus Christ.

**07:17 AM**

So anyway, it went something like this:

“Hello?” 

“It’s me. I need to know who swiped first.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“The profile you made! Who swiped first, me or him?”

“Who???”

“ALFIE!!!”

“What fucking difference does it make, you numpty? It’s 7 fucking AM in the morning!!!”

“Ada. Focus. Listen to me, all right? Who fucking swiped first?”

“Why the fuck do you need to know??”

“I need to know!”

“But you said already that he’s an idiot and you never want to see him again!”

“I said he was a bastard, actually, but that, too. So who swiped right first, me or him???”

“Good night, Tommy.”

“Ada!”

“Good night!”

**07:20 AM**

Tried calling again but I think she might’ve blocked me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is waaaayyy too much fun. Once again, the brilliant conclusion of the chapter is here thanks to Tiia and her beautiful mind.

###  DAY THREE

**03:14 AM**

My family is trying to kill me and doctor Gold is in on this.

**03:14 AM**

And yes, I am aware of the hour but what happened today cannot bloody wait.

**03:15 AM**

Especially since I just  _ know  _ that this whole diary idea is just a lousy attempt to assassinate my character.

**03:16 AM**

I need a drink.

**03:17 AM**

So I came to doctor Gold’s office for my bi-weekly appointment, completely prepared to subtly string that asshole along throughout the whole thing… only to find out upon entering the office that MY ENTIRE BLOODY FAMILY was already gathered there, sitting in a circle like some fucking Fuckups Anonymous.

“Hello, Tommy,” doctor Gold said, the bastard.

“Hello,” I said and slowly lowered myself onto the only empty chair. “What is this, exactly? An intervention?”

“Don’t be so fucking dramatic, Tommy,” Polly said and lit her cigarette for emphasis. “Sit down.”

“Polly, I’d rather you didn’t smoke,” doctor Gold said to which Polly just gave him The Look.

“I thought this was a shrink’s office?” She dropped the ash into her empty coffee cup. “What bloody psychiatric aid can you be if you don’t let people at least fucking smoke?” 

“Oi, settle down there, Pol. This is about our Tommy, eh?” Arthur grumbled.

“Thank you, Arthur, I’m good,” I murmured and took out my own Camels, thoroughly encouraged by my aunt to be a fucking prick.

“Well…” Doctor Gold looked around him and I could clearly see he had completely underestimated whatever the fuck this mess will turn out like. “Just this once, then. I can see the tension is getting harder among you all–”

John snorted dismissively and popped another nicotine gum. Ever since Esme got pregnant (again), she made him quit (again). He’s been insufferable for weeks.

“Aye, you could bloody say that. Are we supposed to start roasting the bastard now or what? I promised Esme I’d be back for lunch,” he said, to which I gave him my favourite murderous stare.

“This isn’t about you, John!” Ada cried. “We’re here to help your brother so do try to be fucking serious for once!”

Doctor Gold and I exchanged  _ looks. _

“I see what you meant earlier, Thomas,” doctor Gold said and scribbled something in his little notebook. “I think it’s best if we start with you, Ada.”

“Oi, why her?! I’ve got things to do!”

“Shut the fuck up, John,” hissed Polly and nodded at the good doctor. “Good idea. Time somebody sensible said a few words.”

“Right,” Ada sighed and, regrettably, turned her attention to me. “We are all worried, Tommy. Especially me. I feel like you’re losing it lately, sitting all alone by yourself, scribbling in that notebook of yours–”

“One which you bought me, Ada.” 

“Not the point. You’re withdrawn… Even more than usual, Tom. And then there is the thing with that guy–”

“What guy?” John asked immediately.

“None of your fucking business, John, is what guy” I barked. 

“Oh,” Linda gasped and then whispered something in Arthur’s ear to which he just nodded. I’ll be expecting Bible flyers in my postbox any day now.

“Nevermind what guy, you guys!” Ada exclaimed. “I just… I wanted to help. We all do want to help you, Tommy. I asked doctor Gold myself about this diary and he said it was a good idea but now I feel like it’s made you even more of a lonely weirdo, and so Polly and I saw it fit to ask your doctor to set up this family meeting for us to talk about this whole–”

“Ah,” I interrupted coldly and took a long drag on my cigarette for emphasis. “Thank you. So it is an intervention, then.”

“Don’t be a fucking child, Thomas, and let Ada speak,” Polly interjected and lit another cigarette. Linda cleared her throat theatrically and went to open the window.

“If anyone here is being a fucking child, it’s you lot.” I shrugged and put my cigarette out. “First you steal my phone,” I pointed to Ada, “you set me up with some psycho stranger, you make me get a diary, and now have the audacity to lecture me on normalcy? Don’t fuckin’ think so, Ada.”

I thought I won for a moment since now everyone’s attention was back on my sister and I noticed her face going all red… that is until Linda decided to take the floor:

“I actually cannot believe you, Tommy,” she said in that sanctimonious tone of hers. I swear to fuck, Linda: less Bible lines from you and more coke, and we might just get along. “We are all here because we  _ care!  _ You have a family who loves you no matter what and you just keep pushing everyone away.”

“Aye.” Arthur nodded and took her hand. “We do love you, Tommy. And believe me, I know exactly what you’re going through with all this shit, I do. This is why I’m here. To show ya, right, you can get past this whole bloody mess.”

On the one hand, I’ve never been where Arthur has been so I can’t relate, on the other… Arthur actually is the only one of them whom I believed when he said he knew what I was going through. He’s been to Hell and back with those rage fits of his. Sometimes I wonder if father’s fucking diseased genes latched just onto the two of us. At least, I do hope so for Finn’s sake.

“I know you do,” I said in the softest possible tone I could manage. “And I appreciate it, Arthur, I do. What I don’t, however, appreciate… is fucking ambushing me and hijacking my sessions just for you all to feel sorry for yourselves. Because this is my fucking problem, all right? Not yours,” I pointed to Ada, “and not yours,” to Arthur, “and certainly fucking not yours, Linda. So do kindly fuck off and leave me alone.”

**03:38 AM**

I do realize that storming off dramatically did not give me the best credit with doctor Gold but it did feel amazing.

**03:39 AM**

Although… He is the one who is supposed to write me a recommendation at the end of my “probation” and so I don’t know exactly how that’s going to play out for me now.

**03:40 AM**

Maybe I should go apologise tomorrow, just to be on the safe side.

**03:41 AM**

I’ll go and set up an extra session with him. He’ll love it, the prick.

**03:45 AM**

Just looked at my Tinder by mistake and saw I have 5 unread messages from that Alfie bloke. He’s asking me out again (via some idiotic animations). HONESTLY!

**03:47 AM**

I could use a distraction, though…

**03:48 AM**

Gonna get myself one more drink and reply.

**10:35 PM**

I never fucking want to see that bloody idiot again!!!

**10:40 PM**

I should probably be more specific but I just!!! So we went out. Right. That much is clear. I let him take me out and it was going… alright. He took me to some bar in Camden, bought me drinks and it was nice, okay? It’s just that… I would just like it to be known that it’s been a while since a bloke bought me drinks, okay? Just… bear that in mind.

**10:46 PM**

So… We were sitting there and talking (he’s a bloody talker, that one) and after a while, his hand was on my thigh, then his arm around my shoulders and… it was nice. Really nice.

**10:46 PM**

Because of the warmth.

**10:47 PM**

I just didn’t mind, all right? About… the hands.

**10:48 PM**

So we started kissing during what might have been my fifth gin and tonic, and obviously, I wasn’t very much opposed to the idea and so we kissed and then...

**10:49 PM**

I ran away.

**11:01 PM**

Quite literally ran the fuck away from there because it was… uh… let’s just say it was  _ too good. _

**11:12 PM**

ONCE AGAIN I WOULD LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT IT’S BEEN  SOME TIME!

**11:15 PM**

Just gonna clarify, unless there’s been some sort of misconception because I can just  _ feel  _ the suggestion: I did not cream my pants, all right? It’s not that.

**11:16 PM**

Although, truth be told, what I did was equally bad so I won’t even mention it. Ever. Again. 

**11:21 PM**

I MOANED INTO HIS MOUTH  LIKE A LITTLE GIRL!!!

**11:22 PM**

WHO DOES THAT?!?!

**11:25 PM**

So... it was nice while it lasted but it’s quite understandable I can never see that bloody idiot again.

**11:27 PM**

Oh, God have mercy, he just tried to call me and I stood there and stared at my phone.

**11:28 PM**

Note to self: ask John (discreetly!!!) what do all these animations Alfie keeps sending mean, exactly. 

**11:29 PM**

And which one do I send to say “leave me the fuck alone”???

**01:01 AM**

Fuck me, he smelled like fucking pine, rum, and freshly baked bread. I AM  FUCKED!

**01:11 AM**

Wonder if I could finish my probation in Israel. I heard they have very nice coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm super bad lately at answering to your wonderful comments but would just like to say how THANKFUL I AM for all your love, praise and support!!!!

###  DAY FOUR

**10:35 PM**

This is  definitely not how I would’ve played this whole thing but OKAY I GUESS, this is apparently the “Let’s Ignore Tommy’s Rational Points” bank holiday that I was unaware of.

**10:36 PM**

Also, Polly had accused me of being passive-aggressive and I have no bloody idea what she meant by that but OKAY I GUESS!

**10:37 PM**

This is exactly why I shouldn’t be anywhere near my family when any of them is in crisis. It’s like they’re physically  _ allergic  _ to common sense.

**10:37 PM**

Want to know what they did to me? Let’s begin with the obvious: why am I only ever in charge when everybody else fucks up and they need someone to swoop in and save them??? Because I’d really like to know so that I can leave the country when these situations happen.

**10:39 PM**

And yes, this is obviously about my bloody family being 100% incapable of not making a big deal out of literally ANYTHING. Apparently there hadn’t been any new drama for more than twenty-four hours so they obviously had to come up with  _ something.  _ It all started with Polly calling me around eight in the bloody morning (at the crack of dawn, basically) with the following information:

“We have a situation.”

Seeing as I was up all night trying to come up with a good enough response to Alfie’s seemingly never-ending stream of consciousness (note to self: try and pick up when he calls next time, fuck’s sake, Thomas, you’re an ADULT) I was obviously not in the mood:

“Sorry. Wrong number.” 

“Shut up, Tommy. This is important. Get up and get dressed. Meet us at the office.”

“I’m sleeping, leave me alone,” I said. In all seriousness, it was only a catnap but I  _ was  _ on a mandatory leave so how was she even expecting me to do anything concerning the company??? I thought she was all independent with her café side business and all. Besides, I will only be away for what, another week maybe until doctor Gold hopefully comes to his senses and frees me from this prison, so what could be the fucking matter now???

“Don’t fuck with me, Thomas,” she hissed. “Call an Uber and be here in ten.” Polly was using her special commanding tone with me which I didn’t really care for. Whatever they had managed to do now, it really couldn’t be  _ that serious. _

“Arthur’s in charge while I’m gone. Goodbye, Polly.”

It literally took less than twenty minutes for me to regret hanging up on her, which really proves my theory of her being the Wicked Witch From The West:

“Tommy! Get up!”

Apparently, she decided to unleash Finn on me.

“Go away.”

“Tommy! Polly called and told me it’s urgent that you get to the office!” Finn shoved his phone in my face. “I called you an Uber!”

“Shouldn’t you be at school?” I covered my head with a pillow. 

“It’s August.”

“Fuck off!” 

Since Polly had sneakily made my baby brother use his own credit card, which, I’d like to remind some people, was for  _ emergencies only _ , I had no choice but to get my ass out of bed and rush to the car, barely dressed and barely prepared. 

“Morning,” I said absent-mindedly to the driver before fastening my seatbelt. 

“Tommy? What the fuck?” The familiar voice said, at which I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Alfie?!” 

I would like it to be known that my voice was definitely NOT high-pitched and unnatural.

“Hello, treacle.” He beamed at me in the driver’s mirror and started the car. “You usin’ your brother’s account or somethin’? Yer lookin’ awful young in that profile pic.”

“Or something…” I tried to fix my hair discreetly but finally decided against it and leaned into the car seat. “I’m… sorry, I never answered your calls,” I said pointlessly.

Why did I need to say that? WHY???

“Why? Is that ride also gonna be awkward for ya?” He practically sneered at me.

“I’m… sorry. All right?” I muttered. “Can we go now?”

“No. Wait.” He turned around and looked me in the eye. For some reason he was wearing reading glasses again and I felt something akin flu symptoms. “Does that mean you wanted to pick up but couldn’t or never suspected you’d see me again?”

“Fuck.” I sighed. “Is that a trick question?”

“Aye, a little bit.” Alfie smiled cheekily and adjusted the mirror. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying torturing me so, and I had to admit I kind of deserved it. Maybe. A little.

“Are you… You called me again last night,” I said since I evidently love to torture myself, too.

“You made out with me and ran away, right, so do forgive me if I wanted to know why.” 

“I, uh…” He was a surprisingly careful driver or maybe just wanted to take his sweet, sweet time with me imprisoned in his car. I looked at my wrist and saw that I forgot my watch. “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be there on time,” Alfie grumbled and ran a yellow light.

“Don’t… rush on my account,” I said. “I get carsick,” I lied, seeing his watchful eyes in the driver’s mirror again. I swear, the bloke’s either a psychic or a psycho. Or both. Maybe both.

“Nah, you don’t.” He stuck out his tongue at me which, truth be told, is such an annoying, unappealing, and thoroughly childish gesture. HONESTLY! What a dork.

To my absolute dismay, we arrived in precisely ten minutes which meant I’d still be on time.

“Thanks.” I passed him a banknote out of habit, completely forgetting for a minute how Uber actually worked. 

“It’s okay, mate,” Alfie said but took the money anyway, the idiot. “Take care. But… next time ghost me properly and try not to order a ride with me again, eh?”

“It’s not like I could fucking help it,” I barked at him before getting out of the car and slamming the door but not before I heard his rebuttal:

“Aye, I know you couldn’t.”

**11:01 PM**

He said it as if he was bloody  _ irresistible  _ or something!!!

** ** **11:02 PM**

Which he isn’t. 

**11:03 PM**

Not that he’s ugly, that would be insulting to my taste, ALTHOUGH…

**11:04 PM**

No, all right, he’s not… He’s attractive. I’ll admit it.

**11:08 PM**

But that’s it. He’s no Calvin Klein model or anything.

**11:11 PM**

Although these blokes look somewhat malnourished while Alfie looks much healthier so the logical choice here would be him. Out of common sense.

**11:13 PM**

What I mean by that is, he looks like he’s eating at least three times a day. And working out from time to time. Maybe martial arts…?

**11:15 PM**

Not that I could tell, I mean he was fully dressed and all, I just remember him talking about jujitsu. 

**11:17 PM**

What the hell am I even thinking about right now??? 

**11:18 PM**

I would like to point out that I am NOT discussing what he possibly looks like naked, this is NOT what’s going on here. Just as long as it’s clear. Just summarizing his interest in sports. Not that it matters anyway, seeing as London is a sizable capital city and we will probably never see each other again. 

**11:21 PM**

Unless I somehow manage to convince Finn to show me how to target specific drivers in the app, which I’m sure can’t be done anyway and so we’re back to square one.

**11:22 PM**

I forgot I still have his bloody phone number...

**11:25 PM**

Moving on. When I reached the thirteenth floor, the whole family (sans Finn) was gathered in the large conference room, which meant that a) Polly wasn’t exaggerating about there being some sort of a “situation”, b) it allowed me to make quite the entrance.

“Tommy. How nice of you to be on time,” was the first thing Polly said before I even managed to sit my arse down.

“You’re welcome,” I said.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“No need. I’m here now. So. What’s the crisis, Polly?”

“There… Might be a potential succession situation, Tommy,” Arthur answered for her and passed me two ancient-looking folders. Curious as to what I was actually looking at there, I opened both. There were black-and-white portrait pictures attached which immediately caught my attention.

“Right… I see. Why are we having a meeting about some children, Polly?” I asked.

“They’re not just  _ some  _ children, Tommy,” Arthur interjected again and turned a couple of pages in the folder for me, then pointed towards what looked like a criminal record excerpt. “Look.”

“St. Agatha’s Orphanage? A bit late to get rid of me and Arthur now, Pol.” 

“Don’t even joke about this, Tom,” she barked.

“It was only a fuckin’ joke. What am I looking at here?”

At this point, Polly just huffed and decided to enlighten me:

“They’re my children, Tommy.”

“Ah, fuck.” I took out a cigarette which Ada immediately swatted out of my hand. “Why are we doing this again, Pol? Hm? Is it this time of year already?”

“Because I hired a private investigator. An expensive one.”

“Fuck, Polly! Not this again.”

“Shut up. This time it’s for real.”

“Just like it was last year? And the year before that?” I was growing visibly impatient but so was she. Sometimes I feel more related to that woman than my own mother.

“St. Agatha’s is their last known location before they turned eighteen and went completely off the radar.”

“Oh, good. Something we’ve always known, then,” I said, trying to keep my calm. “They could be anywhere now.”

“They’re in London,” Ada said all of a sudden. “We got a message from some lawyer in the city, they hired a firm and apparently said they want to meet us.”

“A family meeting, then. How charming.” I decided to go for that cigarette either way. “So what’s the catch? They want in on the company shares? What a fucking surprise.”

“They do,” Arthur said. “An equal share.”

“So tell them absolutely fucking not, it’s obviously some scammers wanting in on the money.  _ Again. _ ”

“They’re not,” Polly said coldly. “We’ve checked.”

“How? A DNA test?” 

“It’s pending.”

_ Fuck. _

“Alright,” I said. “Thank you for keeping me in the dark about this,” I snapped at Polly again. “Thankfully, the test still might be negative so it all still doesn’t matter. If we don’t want to give them an equal share, or any bloody share for that matter, we don’t have to, eh?”

“Tom!” Polly had the audacity to be outraged which at this point was pretty fucking redundant.

“Problem is, Tommy… The way the documents are phrased…” Arthur stumbled for a second there before Ada took over again:

“They hold a share each, Tommy. Both of them, if the tests are positive. They’ll be here tomorrow for an official meeting, so right now we all better reach a common fucking ground on this and soon.”

_ Double fuck. _

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

### DAY FIVE

**04:52 AM**

I might have slightly fucked up.

**04:52 AM**

Okay, not really “fucked up” but...

**04:53 AM**

I was stressed out by this whole thing with Polly’s children being alive and well, all right???

**04:54 AM**

Not that I don’t want them to be, Christ… That sounded wrong. I just think it’d be better for Shelby Company Ltd. if they weren’t so close to London to… be alive and well. 

**04:55 AM**

Which might make me heartless and I’m fully aware it might sound even more wrong but business is business and they should know that if they want in, all right?

**04:56 AM**

Which is still bloody unbelievable either way. I don’t know why should we indulge another scammer duo with a DNA test _ yet again _ but apparently my family only wants my opinion when I agree with their romantic fucking notions. 

**04:57 AM**

So here I was, thinking just that, by myself in my room just... drinking wine and feeling sorry for myself and so I might have... kind of, maybe, called Alfie. Sort of.

**04:58 AM**

I KNOW!!! It was a mistake!!! BUT I’M WEAK!

**05:01 AM**

At first, I was thinking of calling an Uber again but I didn’t want to wake Finn since it was already close to midnight and all and might I just remind you (whoever it is that I’m talking to) that’s it’s bloody _ complicated _ to match your credit card with this app thing… All right, the early hours, I’m sure, wouldn’t even make a difference to Finn since he was probably in his room playing video games either way, but _ on principle _ I didn’t want to bother him. Plus, the point is, what were the odds of Alfie taking my fare again, right?

**05:03 AM**

Unless he’d be driving near my house all night long or at least in close proximity just to make sure he’d pick up first if I did indeed order another ride… which would make us both equally insane, dysfunctional, and probably a danger to society. 

**05:11 AM**

Right, so I called him _ the traditional way _ and he picked up after maybe two signals:

“Hi, Tommy,” he said, sounding a little sleepy. “Need a ride?”

I chuckled at that. It took me a while to reply but after a minute or two I said:

“I do, in fact. Need a ride.”

“Well, too bad I’m already in bed.” I could basically FEEL his self-assured smirk over the phone. “You’ll have to call your _ other _ Uber driver.”

“What other Uber driver?” 

“Nah.” He chuckled. “Don’t lie. I can’t be your only boyfriend.”

“My–”

“Goodnight, Tom.”

“Be here in ten,” I said quickly, too afraid that he really might hang up on me, the git. “I know you’re not sleeping!”

“I never said I was sleeping. I said I was in bed.”

…_ honestly! _

“Doing what?” I regretted the question the second it left my mouth.

“Ain’t you the curious one, Thomas?”

“Stop… calling me that.”

“That’s your name, innit?”

“I’m… yes, it is. But there’s no need for formalities, is what I mean.”

I heard a deep sigh and prepared myself for the “Scorned Man Monologue” with a side of “You’re a Closeted Disaster, Tommy Shelby”, followed by the disco chorus “You’re Gonna Die Alone”. However...

“Last time I kissed you, right, you ran for the hills, yeah, so do fuckin’ forgive me if I’m a bit wary about any fucking pet names, sweetheart.”

All right. That particular… weirdness, that I could work with. God, he is weird, isn’t he?

“I’m not entirely sure why you should start with the nicknames–”

“You just said you didn’t like formalities.”

I heard him smile this time and for some reason it made everything just… easy. Normal, even. 

“I never said that!” I smiled as well. It was somehow natural to just smile along when Alfie did that, too.

“Nah, figured you’d say a blatant lie like that, mate. And since apparently you really don’t want to replace that stick up yer ass with somethin’ more fun…”

I nearly CHOKED on my bloody wine, I swear to God.

“...”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t offer. But really… goodnight now, Tommy.”

“I–”

And then he hung up. 

**05:22 AM**

I know I’m dwelling but there are precisely SEVENTY SEVEN THINGS wrong with this man, out of which only about two I find likely to be manageable in real life.

**05:23 AM**

Not that I’m planning on managing anything about that man since his number one flaw is being absolutely and totally infuriating. My blood pressure is already high enough, thank you very much.

**05:23 AM**

And NO, I would just like to point out that I AM NOT BITTER about him not jumping in his car and just casually showing up at my place since that would just be desperate. On both parts. 

**05:25 AM**

I need help!

**05:30 AM**

All right, but since I have a session with doctor Gold in the morning and then another family meeting right after that, I feel like I can open another wine.

**10:33 AM**

I should not have opened that wine.

**10:41 AM**

I _ heroically _managed to make it downstairs and make myself a cuppa but honest to God, I don’t think I can make it to doctor Gold’s in this state…

**10:45 AM**

All right, I do have to say: it’s either me or Polly’s become completely irrational. What makes her think that attacking me over skipping _ one _bloody session is going to do anyone any bloody good???

“You know bloody damn well, Thomas, that the only thing keeping you from jail after you savagely attacked that man are these bloody sessions so quit stalling and march your ass downtown! I can’t bloody stand you in this fucking house any longer, I swear to fuck… Quit standing! More moving, less whining. I’m gonna call you a fucking Uber…”

At which I managed to completely freak out and nearly launched myself at the next taxi driving past our house. 

**12:34 PM**

All right, doctor Gold was nearly as irrational as Polly this morning and I’m not having it any longer! HONESTLY! Should they be a couple, they would wreak havoc amongst us regular humans. 

**12:36 PM**

Now… don’t get me wrong but I’m seriously considering setting those two onto one another. It’s not my brightest hour, I’ll admit, but hopefully once they _ really _get into the topic of me being a total fuckup, it will be a distraction enough for them to finally give me some bloody peace. 

**12:56 PM**

Well, yes, I do vaguely remember doctor Gold mentioning my constant scheming as the root of my issues but that’s not the bloody point! The point is… why is that man waving at me? 

Oh, fuck, he’s coming over to my table. What… 

All right, I’ve put my glasses on and it’s ALFIE. Fuck! How!!!

… is there a GPS in my ass that he’s tracking or…? Wait, he’s sitting down at my table what do I do???

**06:39 PM**

I’m…

So fucked.

**06:45 PM**

And I don’t mean metaphorically, although that too… Fuck.

**06:47 PM**

He just left to do some, as he put it “actual bloody driving, although fuckin’ hell, sweetheart, looks like we have to do this again, innit?”

**06:51 PM**

Turns out he followed me on Instagram some time ago and then today saw me tag myself at this restaurant and was driving past it and–

**07:11 PM**

Can I just say, I don’t care if the man’s stalking me. I really don’t. Because let me just casually mention, he has some superior bloody bedroom skills that I could honestly get used to in these trying times and–

**07:15 PM**

And I just checked my mobile. HOW COULD I FORGET ABOUT THE FAMILY MEETING??????

**07:17 PM**

Well, I know _ how, _there was a cock in my mouth but AGH!!!!! FUCK!!!!!

**07:18 PM**

I have **46 missed calls, 77 voice messages and…**

**07:19 PM**

Can I just say, oak for my funeral would be a mistake since it clashes with my complexion. Just bloody cremate me already and be done with it, people.

  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ALL RIGHT!” At that, Arthur stood up, shaking the entire table as he did. “Who’s throwing my fucking pastry around?!”

###  DAY SIX

**02:11 AM**

I’m so very sorry for what I said about doctor Gold being irrational. And also Polly. She’s a goddess, a saviour, a good woman, and I never should have said a bad word about her. Because you know who’s the real SPAWN OF FUCKING SATAN??? HER FUCKING SON! Oh, yes! That’s right! Her fucking SON is a fucking CUNT that his daddy must’ve sent FROM FUCKING HELL just to mess with us all and con us out of all our FUCKING MONEY!

**02:15 AM**

Obviously, Polly’s on my side  _ now  _ since she finally realized that her heirs fucking apparent are greedy little fucks!!! No idea what are we going to do about them, though. No fucking idea. I’ve been negotiating with these bloody terrorists all morning, all afternoon, and nearly all of the evening and we haven’t decided ANYTHING!

**02:22 AM**

Oh, and why am I still at Polly’s house at this hour, instead of laying in somebody else’s bed, hugged by these big lumberjack arms, you might ask???

BECAUSE THAT FUCKING TWAT UNMATCHED ME ON TINDER!!!

Oh, that’s right. “We should do this again, Tommy” seems to have been _ just a fucking line!  _ It was a LINE and I’m a fucking one night stand now. This day could literally not have gotten any worse.

**02:45 AM**

Called it. Apparently it could:

“I know you’re not sleeping,” he texted me, the idiot. I blocked his number but it didn’t help. At all. I’m so fucking mad at myself I could scream. This is why I fucking drink.

**03:01 AM**

All right, and maybe… just maybe, I’m also a little bit disappointed in this whole thing. But mostly with myself, for believing in anything that fucking liar had said to me. I just can’t believe I fell for his bullshit. I really should’ve known better.

**03:02 AM**

No, I actually can fucking believe I fell for this shit. I believe I fell for it because I was… weak and stupid, and tired, and frustrated, and just desperate for love. And he used that! He used me. He must’ve seen right through me and thought “oh, well, this is a great fucking opportunity!”.

**03:25 AM**

I unblocked him... just for a couple of minutes, just to see if he writes again but of-fucking-course he didn’t. I blocked him then for good and poured myself another whiskey.

**03:33 AM**

All right, but then I just want to know one thing: why was he just so… nice to me? I mean he was gentle and patient, and kind… and I don’t really mean just in bed, although that, too. Why the fuck was he like this if he just meant this to be a one night stand?

**03:41 AM**

Well, I know that people have one night stands nowadays and it’s not necessarily all bloody noses and bruises, fuck’s sake, I know people like to have a good time, I’m not a prude! It’s just that it would’ve been better to have known his intentions beforehand, please and thank you!

**10:15 AM**

I don’t even have a headache after last night, which should be troubling judging by the amount of whiskey I consumed. It really should give me a pause that I no longer have  _ real  _ hangovers but at this point who the fuck even cares? Must be that whiskey just agrees with me, I reckon. So anyway… I was fully prepared to tackle yet another office meeting and had half a mind to get going already – that is until I reached the kitchen and saw these two fucking  _ monsters  _ sitting at the table and casually chewing on eggs and toast. To say I was surprised would’ve been a major understatement. 

“Ah, morning, Tom,” Polly said to me cheerfully and pressed the button on the coffee machine. She smiled at me as if this scene right here was the most casual and normal experience in the world and I… honestly? At this point I was simply lost. 

“Sit, sit. I just thought it would be nicer to have a family meeting as an actual family today. Get some real conversations going. All these cold conference rooms just give me a headache to be honest with you,” she jabbered as I lowered myself on the chair in complete disbelief. “Arthur and Ada are already on their way with croissants. Would you like some eggs?”

I looked at Michael and Anna, just happily munching on our fucking food, and immediately felt the urge to make my coffee Irish.

“Yeah, I’ll have some eggs,” I said. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was going to get to the bottom of this but the fact of the matter was, I’d have to be dead to refuse Polly’s scrambled eggs. Not to mention she doesn’t just toast the bread, she fries it with butter, all right? Now, on account of that supreme bloody breakfast, I’ve decided to wait before making a scene. 

“Hi, cousin,” Anna said to me cheekily, smirking not unlike her mother. “Sleep well?”

I stared at her coldly, trying not to blink.

“For God’s sake, Thomas,” Polly hissed and put a plate before me. “Eat! And this time kindly try not to stab anyone before noon.”

“That supposed to be funny, Pol?” I said.

“It was, actually,” interjected Michael, with the cuntiest smile I’ve ever seen on a person. I swear to God, one more word from this bastard and I’m punching him in that smug, pasty face. Polly turned around to make more eggs but I swear I could see a self-satisfied smirk there.

Thankfully, three loudest members of the family chose this precise moment to stumble into the hallway. I could hear bits and pieces of their conversation as they made their way towards the kitchen:

“Fuck off, Ada, you so did not!”

“What business is it of yours, anyway?!”

“Leave our Ada alone, John, she’s allowed to have her fun, eh?”

“You always take her side!”

“Fuck, I do not!”

“Yes, you do! It’s because she’s a girl, isn’t it?”

“Oh, grow the fuck up, John Boy!”

When they entered the kitchen, I could see they were roughly as surprised as I had been when they saw Michael and Anna there. 

“Right,” Arthur said and handed Polly a brown paper bag. “What the fuck are they doing here, eh?”

“And good morning to you, too, Arthur,” Polly said calmly. “Sit down, grab a plate. I made some eggs and toast. Thomas, you haven’t even touched yours!”

That wasn’t entirely true. I wanted to eat but was too preoccupied to even try; that whole thing with eating at the same table with my mortal enemies, and all. Everybody went silent for a while until Ada harrumphed ostentatiously and sat down next to Anna.

“Hello, Anna,” she said coldly and reached for my coffee. I slapped her hand away but wasn’t quick enough and so she took a large gulp.

“Stop fighting, fuck’s sake!” Polly put three plates in front of them and took mine away, presumably to reheat it. 

“Will Finn be joining us?” I asked. 

“No,” Polly said. “Why do you ask?”

“Thought he’d like to meet his cousins, is all.”

“Well, aren’t you thoughtful, Tommy.” She sneered at me and refilled my coffee cup. “He already did, last night.”

“When?” I snapped.

“When you were moping around in your room.”

“They stayed the night?” I tried to sound calm enough to not let her know how fucking ridiculous that was. She basically allowed them to spy on us while we slept! 

And, by the way, I wasn’t moping. I was  _ contemplating. _

“Is that a problem for you, cousin?” Anna asked sweetly. “Aren’t you happy that we’re finally reunited?”

“Ecstatic, Anna. If you’ll excuse me…”

I went outside for a cigarette. I figured I’ve been polite to these snakes long enough. After last night, I certainly deserved a break. In the end I smoked two but managed to calm down a little bit, put my thoughts in order, and generally catch my breath – which was lucky since, as I came back to the kitchen, I saw that it took mere minutes for my family to start ripping each other apart:

“I never fucking wanted to give you up!” Polly yelled and smashed the frying pan against the cooker. “If it were up to me, Michael, we’d never be apart! But it happened, all right? It happened and I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!”

“Yes, it did fucking happen!” Michael yelled in turn and I saw he started to clench his fists. Arthur was now watching him closely, while Ada, bless her heart, really tried to outscream the Grays:

“Oi, now can everybody shut up for a minute? It wasn’t anybody’s fault!”

“Shut up, Ada,” John kicked her shin under the table, for which he received a solid dig in the ribs. “Ow! You bitch!”

“Don’t call your sister that!” Polly shrieked. 

“I’ll call her whatever the fuck I bloody want, now that you’re ready to betray us for this fucking strangers!”

“John!”

“Fuck off, Ada!”

“Now, wait a goddamn minute…” Arthur tried to intervene and would have succeeded, with the booming voice and all, if it wasn’t for the flying croissant that promptly hit him in the face.

“ALL RIGHT!” At that, Arthur stood up, shaking the entire table as he did. “Who’s throwing my fucking pastry around?!”

Everybody went quiet, not really ready to throw fists with a professional boxer. Nobody moved for a while there, until John saw his opportunity, took a handful of his scrambled eggs, and smeared them all over Michael’s otherwise impeccably gelled hairdo.

“JOHN!” Ada yelled before all hell broke loose. Bits and pieces of toast, eggs, and chocolate pastry was flying across the kitchen. Since I had no desire to participate in this childish spectacle, I kept my place as the composed by-stander. That is, until something shattered against the floor and everybody went quiet again. Then, I saw Michael and John, each covered in food, storming out of the kitchen. It probably would’ve worked a little better for the dramatic effect they were going for, if they hadn’t been headed in the same direction. They had to pause a little bit to put their shoes on and that’s when I noticed that Michael still had a rather large amount of eggs stuck in his hair.

“After you, you lil’ cunt,” John said, as Michael tried to shove his way towards the front door. 

“Fuck you,” Michael hissed and reached for the doorhandle. Just as he was about to go for his melodramatic exit, he encountered a very unexpected obstacle on the other side of the door:

“Oi, watch it, treacle! Ye nearly got yer hat blown off there, fuckin’ hell…”

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas Shelby and the Audacity of This Bitch

### DAY SEVEN

**05:03 AM**

Oh…

**05:06 AM**

OOOOOH…

**05:10 AM**

Would it be incredibly redundant if I just said “oooh” again?

**05:12 AM**

Well... Shit. This time I’m going to start at the beginning, for once. 

**05:13 AM**

Right, so… Alfie came to the door like the insufferable oaf that he is and… well, obviously he must have been looking for me.

“All right, Tommy?” he asked and smiled with that incredible ease. 

“Take me out of here,” I barked, grabbed my coat and pushed him out the door. I just had to get out. I didn’t care how.

“Ah. All right, then.” 

We were sitting in his car already when I first realized that I hated his guts and didn’t even want to be around him but then Alfie started the car and sped away into the busy streets of London and it looked like I had no other choice than to stay put. We didn’t speak for a while and, to my utter surprise, it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. It was a gloomy morning and it looked like it was about to rain which had an eerily calming effect on me. Together with the comfortable silence and the warmth of the car I nearly drifted off to sleep but then I heard Alfie say:

“Why the fuck did you block my number, Tommy?”

Ah. 

I sat up straight at that and shot him a well-deserved _ look. _

“Seems fitting since I was going to be a one night stand for you.”

He went quiet for a while and I could see he was clenching his jaw because there was this little vein in his forehead that was also there when we… 

“Ah,” he muttered and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. He wasn’t wearing any rings today. Was he in a hurry or not really making an effort? He nodded a couple of times and turned into a back alley of some building. “Get out,” he said and turned off the engine. I sat there, utterly dumbfounded at the audacity of this bitch. HE unmatched ME but I was suddenly the one to blame here???

“I think not,” I snapped and firmly fastened my seatbelt. Judging how that fucking madman drove I should’ve done that earlier but couldn’t really think clearly then. I was just focused on getting away from my homicidal family members. 

Alfie looked at me as if I was from another planet or something, then snorted and got out of the car. Thinking he was about to manhandle me or whatever the hell, I got out immediately, not really up for a fight with a guy twice my size. I mean, I already mentioned the arms. They’re… a little on the broader side if you know what I mean. He didn’t approach me, though, he went to the boot, got a bag of groceries out and looked at me expectantly. 

“Well? Come on.”

My feet felt frozen to the ground, or maybe I was just beginning to grow cold since it started to rain then. I followed him, not really aware of the reason that was pushing me forward.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to eat.”

“I already ate.”

“Yeah, you don’t look it so much. So we’re gonna eat, right, and then I’m going to talk, yeah, and yer gonna shut the fuck up, now how does that sound?”

“Awful,” I muttered and was about to light a cigarette but he took it out of my mouth and threw it to the curb. 

“No smoking in my fucking flat, mate.” He unlocked the door to what must’ve been his building and let me through first. We stepped into the elevator in utter silence; me because it was so old it looked an inch from breaking down, and him because he still had the bloody audacity to be mad at me, for some inexplicable reason. 

We got out on the last floor and still had to take a small, narrow staircase to the attic. Alfie opened the door and before anyone got the chance to say anything or even take off their shoes, the biggest fucking dog I’ve ever seen shot out of there and threw itself at Alfie. I yelped, actually bloody _ yelped _, as that monster, roughly the size of a small cow, started licking his face and leaving slobber everywhere. Alfie seemed delighted, the sick bastard.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Daddy’s home, yeah.” He patted the dog and scratched behind its ears until it calmed down and moved over to stick his bloody muzzle straight in my crotch.

“I’m…”

“Yeah.” Alfie smiled cheekily at that and took the dog by the collar, leading it inside. “Come the fuck in, don’t just stand there.”

I stepped inside and carefully closed the door behind me, looking around with cold, calculated stare. The apartment was small and full of those dreadful slanted walls that were so common for attics. It was thoroughly cluttered but somehow not dirty. Clean and dusty at the same time, sort of like its owner.

“All right. I’m gonna pour us some wine, yeah, and yer gonna sit over there and stop scrutinizing my bloody place like some fucking Department of Health, right?” He opened the bottle in seconds and poured me a big glass of red wine. 

“It’s one in the afternoon,” I said coldly.

“Thanks for the information, mate. Drink.”

I took the glass reluctantly and nearly made it to the couch in the middle of the room, before he yelled again to “take off my bloody shoes, for fuck’s sake”. After that, I sat down and wrapped myself in the chunkiest looking blanket, hoping it was expensive and that I’d leave wine stains all over it. Fucking drama queen, that one.

Alfie knew his way around the kitchen, that much I could see. I couldn’t really tell what he was making but it smelled buttery and garlic-y, and… Well, those were my two favourite ingredients so I wasn’t going to complain. Yet. 

“Eat.” 

I must have dozed off for a moment or maybe lost track of time because when I opened my eyes, Alfie was standing in front of me and balancing two bowls of pasta in one hand and his own wine glass in the other. My own empty glass was standing safely on the thoroughly stained and battered coffee table that must’ve been older than the two of us combined. The giant dog was laying on the carpet directly underneath my feet and snoring like a tractor.

I took the bowl from Alfie and tasted the pasta cautiously before deciding it was good to eat. 

“Good enough for your majesty, then, eh?” Alfie chuckled and sat down beside me. 

We ate and drank until we finished the bottle. It was silent between the two of us again and I honestly did not mind one bit. It was soothing in a way. That’s why I wasn’t too pleased when he took the bowls to the sink and said:

“About that night, then.”

I physically felt my whole body stiffening and stomach clenching, which was perhaps not the best thing after a big meal and several glasses of wine. 

“Oh, fuck’s sake, Tom, unclench!” He must’ve seen my face because he suddenly threw himself on the couch again and took a part of the blanket I was wrapped up in to cover himself. “I just need ya to listen for a bit.”

“Fuck you,” I said and stubbornly looked out the window. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“Aye, well. I got somethin’ to say and you might not like it but here it is.” He scratched his beard and went silent for a good minute before standing up again and walking towards the kitchen. I heard him open another bottle. “Yer a fucking infuriating being, Thomas!” He yelled from the kitchen and came back with two clean glasses. “And I cannot fucking believe, right, I can’t believe I fell for you so hard that I did, all right?” 

I watched him pour me another glass and then I downed it in three large gulps, not really prepared to hear what was about to come next. I hated rejection, plain and simple. I don’t think anyone alive likes it unless of course they’re even more fucked in the head than me.

“You unmatched me,” I pointed out and poured myself another glass. I felt both him and his fucking dog watching me like one sentient being split into two equally shaggy bodies. 

“I–” He blinked at me, not unlike his dog and had the NERVE to fucking LAUGH AT ME before squatting down in front of me with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on the man. His knees made the weirdest popping noise and Alfie winced at that but stayed down all the same. “You fucking brat, is that why you fucking blocked me?”

I looked away from him again and so he took the wine glass from me and then took my hands in his. 

“You fucking bastard.” He chuckled again. “I didn’t unmatch your sorry ass. I deleted my fucking account.”

I frowned, not really understanding what he’d just said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means…” He hesitated then stood up, his face visibly contorted in pain. “Fuck’s sake…” He sat down beside me and sighed. “It means yer a fuckin dumbass.”

“Thank you so much,” I snapped. “If you’re done insulting me, I think I should go.”

“Fuck you, eh? You fuckin’ technophobe.” He took a sip of his wine and took my hand again. “I deleted my account ‘cause I didn’t want to match with anyone else, all right? Not after that night with you. Yer the real deal, Tommy.”

“I’m a–”

“A fucking child, yeah. Sure. But the real deal nonetheless.”

I looked at him again, my heart beating so fast now that I could barely control my breathing. Was this all a mistake or a fucking line? Was it a line? I couldn’t tell anymore. Was I being an idiot again? Was he playing me?

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” he said before leaning closer and kissing me in the way that made me forget my whole identity. 

**06:37 AM**

So… We kissed for the longest time. And then he told me to undress and he locked that strange dog in another room and we fucked on the couch for what must have been hours because in the end his back went out and my whole body gave in and I just laid there, naked, covered in three different types of bodily fluids, spread-eagled and… just… 

Fucked.

**06:55 AM**

He didn’t let me go until an hour later and then we took a bath together and we didn’t talk almost at all which was so fucking nice. He made me dry my hair afterwards and wear his pyjamas before showing me the last part of the flat; the part that was perhaps the sole reason to like it anyway. There was a way to access the roof from the big kitchen window and so we sat there together, sharing three blankets and two more bottles of wine. He made me eat his homemade bread and jam and I didn’t dare to protest because he promised to later do that thing with his tongue that I really fucking liked. 

**07:15 AM**

I’m still at Alfie’s place. I’m writing this on the crumbling pieces of spare paper that I found under the kitchen sink. Will have to somehow glue them into the actual diary later. 

**07:22 AM**

Alfie’s still asleep. I took a peek earlier. His giant dog crawled into bed with him and was now snoring straight into his master’s ear. I strongly suspect Alfie might actually be deaf. I really hope they wake up soon, though. I’m fucking starving.


	8. Chapter 8

###  DAY EIGHT

**11:35 AM**

I have a distinct fucking feeling that doctor Gold is not in it for the money but for a date. And it’s not even with me!

**11:36 AM**

Not that I would necessarily like that, thank you very much. Just… ugh. The hair! And his general… lankiness. And this weird fucking voice. No, thank you. I’ll stick with my Tinder boyfriend.

**11:38 AM**

Not that we’ve established being boyfriends or anything. Labels are for designer clothing.

**11:41 AM**

I might be writing this from Alfie’s apartment but it doesn’t mean anything.

**11:44 AM**

He gave me the keys and let me hang out here even when he’s away because he knows how crazy my fucking family is. He cares about my mental health and I honestly wish he had been my therapist in the first place. NOT that I have a weird doctor/patient kink or anything, I just mean…

God fucking damn it, I’m explaining myself to a notebook.

**11:45 AM**

I finally told Alfie about my probation yesterday and the whole “me attacking a customer with a fork and nearly going to jail but ending up with court-mandated anger management therapy and house arrest” incident. I’ve never seen the man laugh so hard before. 

**11:46 AM**

Honestly, there were tears in his eyes and his face went all red. The idiot. I’m glad my misery amuses him, really.

**11:47 AM**

It was good to make him laugh so hard, though. I never thought myself a comedian or a storyteller of any kind, and… Alfie really listens to me. Like… the nicer therapist who doesn’t need me to pay him for spending time together.

**11:49 AM**

And the sex… Jesus fucking Christ.

**11:50 AM**

I mean, not that I define having a boyfriend as a free therapist who has sex with me from time to time, it’s not that.

**11:51 AM**

I’m explaining myself again...

**11:53 AM**

And it’s not from time to time, by the way. It’s all the fucking time. Hmm…

**11:54 AM**

And I’m not trying to impress a notebook, either! All right???

**11:58 AM**

What the fuck do you know, anyway? You’re a fucking notebook.

**03:45 PM**

Uh… shit. Alfie just came back from work and asked me why I wasn’t in therapy. Well… I was supposed to be but I kind of might have insulted my therapist earlier.

**03:46 PM**

Of course, I didn’t tell him  _ that _ but either way Alfie doesn’t look amused. I should stop writing and try to explain myself but maybe if I scribble with more vigor he’ll know I’m busy.

**05:33 PM**

Right, so… that went surprisingly well. Who knew that arguments didn’t have to include yelling (Ada), nonsense (John), and breaking inanimate objects (Arthur)? Certainly not me.

**05:35 PM**

He is so bloody composed when he needs to be. And he’s not mad, now he’s kind of between laughing at me and being concerned but… I mean, who cares since he’s lying on me and is stroking my hair and everything is fine, and I might just fall asleep like that.

**05:37 PM**

Okay, the bastard just told me to “leave my bloody Princess Diaries and pay attention to him”. I’m about to throw fucking fists.

**05:38 PM**

HE JUST SAW ME WRITE THAT AND TOLD ME I STOOD NO CHANCE IN A FIGHT WITH HIM, SOMEBODY HOLD ME, I AM GOING TO MURDER THAT MAN!

**07:22 PM**

On second thought, I might just keep him a little longer. Fuck. It turns out I couldn’t tackle him after all (shut up) but I nearly knocked his teeth out.

**07:25 PM**

And then there was some spanking involved.

**07:29 PM**

He was raised in a fucking brothel, I swear to fuck, I can barely hold my pen now.

**08:02 PM**

I think I killed him. Just not intentionally this time. Let’s just say… Apparently he’s not the only one with tricks up his sleeve. He’s asleep now so I can finally sit down and write about what happened with doctor Gold. I kind of need to write this down because this time it wasn’t all my fault and I need people to know that, in case my boyfriend finally gives me a heart attack from one too many orgasms.

Woe is me.

**08:03 PM**

So it was a normal session at first. At least it started that way and nothing suggested that things would go wrong. He asked me how I was, I lied I was fine, he asked me “how I was really”, I said I was fine again… Like I said, a normal session. After that, he asked about my week and I might have mentioned Alfie a couple of times because then we ended up talking about me and him for a while until doctor Gold finally asked:

“I never realized you were openly gay, Thomas.”

“Bisexual,” I corrected with a bit more snark than I originally intended. 

“Interesting. Does that run in the family?”

I found the question impertinent so I stared at him instead. 

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I sighed. “My sister is as well.”

“Ada?”

“No, John.”

“Ah.” He smiled and scribbled something in his fucking notepad. “Good one. Anyone else?”

“Anyone else gay in the family? No. I don’t think so. I strongly suspected Finn but it turns out he’s just emotionally constipated.”

“Ah… Wonder where that came from.” He smirked the way cats might before they devour their prey.

HONESTLY!

“Well, Polly’s raising him so I really can’t tell. She’s possibly the bluntest person I know.”

“Interesting.” He scribbled something again and gave me the cat-smile again. “Is she…?”

“A lesbian?” I grunted. “No, doctor.”

“I was going to say ‘married’ but good to know.” He nodded, not even trying to hide his amusement now.

“No, she’s not married, you can ask her out,” I said curtly and rolled my eyes. 

“That would be highly inappropriate, Tom.”

“So is you, investigating my bedsheets. Doctor.”

“Is talking about sex uncomfortable for you?”

“No, it’s not  _ uncomfortable for me. _ ” I realize I was mocking him now as a preschooler might have but the guy was honestly crossing the line here. 

“Really? Well, I distinctly remember you referencing your first time with your new boyfriend as ‘doing it’...” He raised his eyebrows like the twat he was.

“We had anal sex,” I deadpanned. “I sucked his cock and he stuck his tongue in my anus and then fucked me in the ass. Does that satisfy you, doctor?”

“I think the most important question would be if it satisfied you?”

“I came three times.”

“Not… what I meant.” He smirked again. “But good to know you’re using healthier outlets to get rid of all that pent-up anxiety.”

“Fuck you,” I snapped. “What the fuck do you know about me?”

“I know... that you don’t like to be analyzed. I know that this is torture for you. And I know that you are making progress. Despite what you might think of therapy.”

“Well, you want to fuck my aunt. So why the fuck should I listen to you anyway?” I stood and was thoroughly ready to leave but he had the bloody nerve to  _ chuckle _ at me as if I was an impertinent child and say:

“Our time is not up yet, Tommy.”

“Well, too bad. I need to do some anal stretching before my boyfriend comes back from work!”

And then I stormed out.

**08:57 PM**

I have no bloody clue why Alfie found that story so amusing since I WAS MORTIFIED!

**09:01 PM**

He’s sleeping like a log and I have no heart to wake him but it looks like his dog is trying to tell me it’s either we go out now or my Balmain boots will suffer a terrible fate.

**09:02 PM**

That blackmailing fucking beast. 

**09:03 PM**

I’m proud of him.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for the one and only Tiia! And since it's her birthday, I've decided to gift her the one thing that makes her laugh. Happy Birthday, sweetie!

###  DAY NINE

**10:37 PM**

The honeymoon was inevitably over once reality kicked in and I realized that I can’t ignore my fucking cousins forever. The DNA results came on Monday and Polly couldn’t have been happier. At that point, I realized these two fuckers would win any potential court case anyway and so we settled. Mum’s diner went to shit but my house arrest went away along with it. Now, since the family thought themselves so bloody competent all of a sudden, I agreed it should be the “new generation” that would have to deal with that side of the business – and the terrible PR I managed to create. Good luck, children.

**10:38 PM**

Oh, and today I also had my final session with doctor Gold.

**10:39 PM**

It was almost uneventful, except for the few tears shed. 

**10:41 PM**

His, of course. Not mine. For some reason, he thought I “made a huge progress” and was “on my way to do good things for my future mental health.” Some New Age bullshit that was. 

**10:43 PM**

I was half-expecting him to throw essential oils at me.

**10:44 PM**

I’m free to move back to my old place, though. Fucking finally! My own space.

**10:46 PM**

Alfie suggested I stay with him for a little while but I was honestly too eager to spend some time alone without Polly’s maniacal cats and... I might have said “no” a bit too harshly. He was a bit disappointed, I could tell and so I foolishly promised to let him take me out tomorrow.

**10:49 PM**

I wonder if maybe I should call him just to make sure there’s no bad blood between us. He sounded kind of hurt when I hung up.

**10:51 PM**

Well, whatever. I’m sure he understands my need for my own bloody space. I’m writing this back on my beautiful designer couch, drinking a non-Marks and Spencer wine and just… living life. This is the best.

**10:53 PM **

Honestly, the best.

**10:55 PM**

I’m so fucking happy.

**10:56 PM**

Maybe I could just text him real quick… just to check if he’s alive and hadn’t done anything stupid while I’m away.

**11:53 PM**

I called him out of pure necessity because I spent at least twenty-five minutes trying to set up “the netflux” and was honestly doubting myself there for a while. 

“First of all, ya fuckin’ walnut,” Alfie said once he picked up the phone. He didn’t even let me say hello, the oaf. “I was sitting here, right, on me own, trying to deduce which fuckin’ cunt was tryin’ to use my bloody password on my account, yeah, and then I get this mysterious call and I’m wonderin’, Tommy… do ya have any leads?”

“What the fuck are you on about, Alfie?” I was honestly so bloody done at this point that I was ready to throw my “smart” TV through the window, all the way to Camden. If it was so smart, I wouldn’t have to waste so much time trying to tell it how to do things properly!

“Judging by your guilty silence, mate…”

“I wasn’t silent, Alfie. I asked you what’s this password talk about.” I tried not to sound too tired but at this point, it was honestly hard.

“As I was saying, Thomas, since you’ve pretty much put yourself on the stand there… I seem to distinctly remember asking you earlier, yeah, if you wanted to drag your skinny ass to mine and watch some quality shows together, and you said…”

“I really don’t have the energy for this, Alfie, please,” I sighed. “What’s the fucking password?”

“Well, I don’t know, mate, but the ones ya’ve been tryin’ so far were pretty goddamn stupid if you don’t mind me sayin, hm…”

Yeah. I did mind. 

“You… could see what I was typing?”

There was a heavy pause followed by a hoarse laughter.

“Nah, you bloody dork, fuck’s sake. I could see, however, me being logged out from my own bloody account every goddamn minute right as I ‘s about to see if Rust and Marty are finally gonna do it.”

“You mean… catch the killer?”

“KISS!”

That… All right, I wasn’t expecting that.

“It’s a crime show, Alfie.”

“Oh, so suddenly gays ain’t allowed, eh?”

“No, I mean… it’s not really how this works, is it? We get the cutesy shows, you know. The “coming of age” shit or period dramas.”

“Absolute fuckin’ horseshit!”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Never seen them makin’ Keira Knightley a lesbian, though.”

“Well, she’s a different type of ‘period drama’ actress, Alfie.”

There was a long pause and a long sigh after that.

“She is the queen of those, though, isn’t she?” he murmured.

“Yeah.”

I could hear him shuffling and so I sat back on the couch. Wasn’t as soft as I imagined Alfie’s blankets being, though.

“So can I have your password, then?” I tried again.

“Absolutely go fucking fuck yourself. I ain’t givin’ you shit since you can’t realize a good potential for gayness when you see one.”

“They’re looking for a pedophile cult, Alfie!”

“And so?! Suddenly dick isn’t allowed, then?”

“Dick would be pretty much discouraged in this situation.”

“Did… wait a second, did I hear a joke? Was Thomas Shelby making a joke? On the bloody phone with me?”

“Shut up…” I was trying not to smile.

“No, you shut up, you actually made a joke! Good heavens, have whatever you bloody want from me, mate. I don’t even care at this point. Have my child if you must!”

“I’m not having your child, Alfie.”

“Well, we’ll see.”

“Fuck off.”

“I’d love to, mate, but me and the dog are honestly too comfortable right now…”

I looked around at my dark and very much designer apartment and allowed myself a little sigh.

“It’s ‘Bakerloo747’, no spaces,” he said after a minute.

“What?”

“The password. But on one condition, though.”

“What condition?” I asked absent-mindedly, already putting in the password and allowing myself a moment of triumph when the arrangement of shows appeared on the screen.

“You watch True Detective with me and tell me there’s no fuckin’ chemistry.”

“But I’ve already seen it!”

“Stop whining. It’s my account.”

“Fine!” It was a good first season, though. I didn’t mind watching it again that much. “Now?”

“Wait! Let me go back to the beginning, bloody hell…”

I waited until he managed to set up and we clicked “play” at the same time. There was some fussing about skipping the intro but I won this one.

“Yeah, all right. It’s a bloody good intro, I’ll give ya that, Tommy.”

“Why thank you.”

“You still owe me a date, though.”

“So this isn’t a date?” I pressed the phone closer to my ear and sunk deeper into the couch. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a scientific character study. Now, pay attention.”

**10:15 AM**

I woke up on the couch earlier that morning. I must have drifted off because the TV was still on and I was using my phone as a pillow. Not a great look, I realize that. I was trying to remember when was I supposed to meet the family today when a certain thought hit me: I really, really,  _ really  _ didn’t want to get out of bed. I texted Polly before taking a scalding hot shower and burying myself under the covers in my enormous bed. I stretched myself in the middle and just layed there for a while, contemplating my ridiculously expensive ceiling lamps. Was I really going back to the way I was working before? It’s only been three months since my court-mandated therapy started but it seemed like a year. I changed. And I didn’t want to go back to the way things were before. Did I really enjoy coming back to this cold, empty apartment at odd hours of the night; stressed, overworked, underfed and not even barely appreciated? 

I took my phone from the bedside table and snapped a quick selfie in my lavish, Egyptian cotton bed sheets. I was ready to give up these, too, really, if it meant I wouldn’t have to feel like I was feeling right now. “Come here now,” I wrote on the picture and sent it. The response came seconds after:

“Some of us actually have to work, mate.”

“Your work is literally driving to places. So come here now.”

“That’s actually just my side gig.”

He included emojis I couldn’t really piece together. Why would an eggplant be wet, anyway?

“So come here and tell me about your ‘main one’.”

The response to that came a little later than I’d like it to.

“I’ll let you let me cook you lunch. Text me the address.”

It was something. I had a couple hours until then but really wasn’t ready to get up for what felt like… ever. So I did the only thing reasonable and called doctor Gold’s office.

**01:01 PM**

“I was actually surprised when my assistant booked your visit, Tommy,” was the first thing he said to me before gesturing towards my usual spot on the couch. “Please. Make yourself comfortable.”

“I know the drill,” I said dryly before settling down and pouring myself a glass of water.

“Right.” He scribbled something in his notes and that just… irked me for some reason. I never liked people talking about me, writing about me or… the idea of people even thinking about me made me feel uneasy. “So what made you book the appointment?”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Well…” He paused and put down the notepad. “I was hoping to see you again, I’m just surprised it’s so soon. I did give you my full recommendation.”

“I know that.” I sipped my water slowly. “It’s not about that.”

“It’s not?”

“No. I’ve put that whole matter behind me.”

“Glad to hear it, Tom. Really, I am.”

“Why?” I asked before I could help myself. “Why would you say that? We don’t really know each other.”

Doctor Gold just chuckled and looked at me in a way I could only describe as  _ curious. _

“Why do you think I became a therapist?”

“So you could spy on people, I guess.”

He laughed.

“Charming. No, Tommy. I want to help them. And I want to help you... so tell me what’s going on with you. There must be something troubling you.”

I took a long pause, just staring at him and trying to intimidate him but it was only half-effective.

“Just life, I guess,” I said finally and leaned back into my seat.

“Just life?”

“Yes.”

“Anything to do with your recent relationship, perhaps?”

“My relationship ’s just fine,” I said dryly.

“So what is it, then?”

“My apartment.” I poured myself more water. 

“I thought you would be happy to move back?” 

I could see he was trying to be sneaky about his questions but that wouldn’t work on me, not even on a bad day like today.

“It’s too big. I’ve decided I want to sell it.” 

I haven’t decided anything, the idea came to me right that very second.

“I see. Where are you going to live?”

“I want to travel.”

I honestly had no idea why those words were escaping my mouth the way they did. 

“Really? That sounds interesting. Where will you go?”

“Rome, first. Then Paris.”

I had no idea why the bloody Rome all of a sudden. I had no clue but at the same time… it seemed like exactly the right thing to do.

“Have you ever been?”

“Only on business.” I looked at the clock and realized I’d be late for my lunch date if I didn’t leave soon. “So I guess this is goodbye. For now.”

“Ah, yes.” He stood up and outstretched his hand towards me. “Good luck, Thomas.”

“With what?” I shook it and already fished out the cigarettes from my coat. 

“Everything.” He shrugged and gave me one of those all-knowing smiles, knowing full well how much they irritated me.

“Thank you.”

“And please give my best to your aunt.”

“Fuck you.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been extremely fun and ending on a happy, Christmassy note seemed very appropriate so here it is. Thank you so much for all your lovely comments, folks!

###  DAY TEN

**10:29 PM**

I’m honestly so fucking full. I strongly suspect it was deliberate planning on Alfie’s side. I’m incapacitated. Unable to even move a muscle. This is what being a dung beetle must feel like.

**10:30 PM**

I’m a shiny, shiny dung beetle.

**10:31 PM**

The bastard got me shitfaced, too.

**10:33 PM**

Well, to be fair we managed to get the whole family drunk along the way which seemed to be an altogether reckless gamble on our part. Honestly, they’re crazy enough as it is; no need to add a controlled substance to the mixture. 

**10:33 PM**

Not to mention that after a while everyone got a little sappy because I announced I would be leaving for Italy after New Year’s.

**10:34 PM**

I’m of course too graceful to mention that in the end, I had to pay for three tickets instead of one since Alfie was adamant to tag along and I’m literally weak in the knees whenever he promises we’d do something crazy in bed. I think he thinks he’s my bodyguard now. 

**10:35 PM**

HONESTLY.

**10:36 PM**

We’re going to ROME, not Timbuktu. What’s the worst that could happen in Rome?

**10:37 PM**

They could technically assassinate the pope again, I guess. That would be quite dramatic… But aside from that, we’ll be pretty safe. Despite Alfie’s incessant overthinking. 

**10:38 PM**

I must also report that Anna scored some points with my boyfriend earlier. I could tell. She brought red wine and very expensive doggy treats. As expected, Alfie doted on her for the rest of the evening, which in turn made Polly bloody ecstatic. I’m afraid I’ll have to marry him now.

**10:39 PM**

Only one of my cousins remains an utter annoyance but that is no longer my business. It’s Arthur who now has to deal with Michael on a daily basis and I honestly don’t envy either of them. I could tell that it was already taking a toll on my brother. He nearly tackled me while trying to grab the nearest wine bottle after downing his third whiskey. Linda couldn’t just leave it alone, of-fucking-course, and accused me of “enabling him”. She then proceeded to talk in Jesus for an hour. Fucking brilliant. As if that sort of talk could keep Arthur away from booze on Christmas Day. What a nutjob that one is. I wish they’d divorce already and Arthur turned to the righteous Path of Gay. Alfie says he doesn’t have “the quality”, whatever that means in his hipster terms, but I’m determined to win this argument and what the hell does he know, anyway.

**10:44 PM**

What an amazing opportunity to torment John that would be! 

**10:45 PM**

A good 80% of Shelby siblings gay as the Fourth of July, just like nature intended.

**10:45 PM**

Well, technically 75% since Ada is still on the fence and insists on dating those ridiculous crybabies she seems to have a weakness for. 

**10:46 PM**

The one she brought to dinner was a tragic mess. He kept bringing her drinks and trying to hold hands under the table every five goddamn minutes. What a fucking shitshow. I quite prefer my sister when she’s in her women phase. She’s generally more relaxed then… Must be all the orgasms she’s finally having.

**10:47 PM**

I must have looked quite distant while thinking of all of this, especially since after contemplating Ada’s last turbulent relationship with Essie I had a Vietnam flashback of my own women-dating days. Alfie ended up taking my wineglass away. Honestly! Who the fuck does he think he is?!

**10:48 PM**

No, wait. Jessie. Come to think of it, I think it was Jessie. I quite liked her. She was witty, at least. 

**10:49 PM**

Definitely wouldn’t try to finger my sister under the table like that moron there…

**10:51 PM**

I mean, she came pretty close to having a fistfight with Arthur but that was pretty entertaining so I’d let that one slide.

**10:52 PM**

I quickly checked on Facebook and saw that Jessie still lived in London. I should give her a call… Find out if I can meddle a little.

**10:53 PM**

Right, Alfie is definitely pushing it tonight. He accused me of “having my scheming face on” and I’m pretty sure Ada saw who I was spying on on my phone. I played it well in the end, I think. I made up some very believable lies and Alfie was quickly subdued with a quick makeout. 

**10:54 PM**

By the way, I wasn’t “scheming”, I was helping! What an ungrateful bunch. I should complain to HR. No, wait. I think Michael is HR now… Nevermind.

**11:32 PM**

I was brutally and sneakily coerced into an evening walk with Cyril as if we were the family from the “101 Dalmatians”. It was nice but I would have preferred less snow. Cyril was delighted, though. Kept stopping at every corner, sniffing every single snow pile intently, just… happily being a dog. Dogs are so weird. I think Alfie is one; he’s definitely hairy enough.

**11:35 PM**

My boyfriend being a dog probably makes me a disgusting fucking pervert so I’m just going to change the subject. 

**11:43 PM**

I was just savagely assaulted for not paying enough attention to that huge fucking animal and I would like to retract my previous statement: Alfie is definitely a dog and he and Cyril are most certainly close relatives. 

**11:44 PM**

I was also threatened with bodily harm and further punishments concerning my anus if I wouldn’t stop writing so I’m afraid I have to let you go for a while.

**11:45 PM**

Merry Christmas, Notebook.


End file.
